


Dust

by Suliana



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Corpse Desecration, F/F, Genocide, Mental Instability, Poisoning, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, not caused by a human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suliana/pseuds/Suliana
Summary: Monsters are dying and there's no clues, no evidence, only dust.Straight up horror in this, inspired (dare I say encouraged) by tumblr shenanigans.This is DARK, mind the tags.  Like, seriously.





	Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Final warning that this is DARK.
> 
> This might actually be the darkest thing I've ever posted for public consumption. Hmmm. Wrote this in one straight shot, took about an hour.

Undyne ran her hands over her face, the webbing between her delicate fingers catching on the equally delicate scales surrounding her eyes.  Her eyes themselves burned, begging for moisture she didn’t have time to give them.  

_ They _ hadn’t had time.  It didn’t seem right that she’d take that away from them, even in death.

A gentle snore from the other side of the room reminded her that Alphys was still sleeping, curled up into a ball on the spare chair in the office.  Her tail hung limply over the side, rising and dropping in time to her breaths.  

Just knowing that she was safe where she could see was a load off her already strained mind.

She didn’t want to, but her eyes met the silently accusing row of mason jars, lined with military precision across the edge of her desk.  Thirteen bottles of dust, each with a name, a place, a time carefully written on.  

Places she knew too well.

_ Faces _ she knew too well.

_ Fuck _ .

She scrubbed her face again, resisting the urge to thumb through the pile of paperwork, of pictures, piled in front of the jars.  She was hungry but she knew that food wasn’t going to stay down.  She really should go down to the triage wing Alphys had set up in the other side of the Waterfall Guard building, but if she did that…

She’d see their faces.

The ones that still had faces, anyway.

It was terrifying that a monster that had no arms, half a torso, and  _ no face _ could still look at her accusingly.  Unable to speak, yet screaming for justice.

She adjusted her braid so it hung properly down her back, a picture slipping free of the pile.

Papyrus.  Dear, sweet Papyrus who so desperately wanted to  _ help _ .  

Dear, sweet Papyrus who was now reduced to a mason jar.

The picture had been taken last Gyftmas, the skeleton brothers hugging each other after some prank by Sans had ended comedically.  

Sans now lay on a gurney, alone in a dark room, half his ribcage being actively eaten away by something no medicine Alphys knew could fix, could  _ stop _ .

Sans, alone with nothing save his brother’s scarf clutched in his one remaining hand.

He’d been hauled in delirious by a Lesser Dog who himself had fallen to dust not long after, babbling about resets and a child and humans.  

She needed a drink, but that wasn’t going to fix anything.  Not with the reports coming in from Hotland and the Capital.

Snowdin was desolate.  There was no one left alive there except a few Ribbits.  They were  _ all gone _ .

Hotland was in a panic.  Waterfall was spared from riots because there was no one left to riot.  The Capital was on fire.  There’d been no word on if Asgore was still alive or not.

The Canine Unit stood proudly before her, if a pile of dust in a series of jar could be considered as such.  They had all been such good dogs.  

She choked back a hiccuped sob.  Such  _ good _ dogs, now just numbered jars.  

Dogaressa had confided in her just last week that she was going to need some time off soon, what with a litter on the way.

Dogamy hadn’t known.

Now he never would.

At least now Doggo’s tumor wouldn’t kill him, not like it killed his sight.  

The logical, reasoning part of her mind knew that she shouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ rationalize things, but Stars above did it keep her from turning into a gibbering lunatic.

She would never admit it - not to Papyrus, not that she could anymore.  Not to Sans, even though she wasn’t sure he’d ever wake up again.  Certainly not to Asgore, who relied on her to be a leader, a  _ captain _ in his Guard.  Not to her Alphys, who depended on her to be strong, reliable, her rock.  No, she would never admit it to  _ anyone _ , but she was something she hadn’t been in a very, very long time.

She was scared.

Something was killing the monsters of the Underground, and she couldn’t stop it.

There were no clues, no alibi, no motives, no  _ evidence _ of anything amiss… save the damning piles of dust scattered the length and width of the Underground.  There wasn’t even evidence to blame it on a human, though she’d tried.  She’d dug through pictures, examined every dust-scene, interviewed anyone,  _ everyone _ .  There was  _ nothing _ .

She sighed, chewing on the end of a pen as she flipped through her case notes.  There had to be something,  _ anything _ in her piles of paper that would break this case, would stop the massacre.  

Blessed Angel, if she didn’t find it soon, there wouldn’t be anyone left to save.

* * *

 

Alphys woke up a few hours later, silently coming to peer over her shoulder to read the updates.

It was bad.  Almost all sectors outside the Capital proper were devoid of monsters, devoid of  _ life _ .  

Asgore was gone to dust.  It wasn’t public knowledge, it would only cause more panic at this point, but his dust had been confirmed by RG1 and 2 before their own dust mixed with that of their liege.  

She hoped that, in whatever afterlife they found themselves in, they found comfort in the fact that neither had been doomed to continue without their soulmate.

It was almost as if something was infecting the food supply, or the water, but there hadn’t been time to properly test either, not past a basic physical inspection.  Alphys had started the computers running on in-depth analysis, but it would take days for the results to come back.  Days they likely didn’t have.

The small lizard monster squeezed her lover’s shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, hoping that the shaking of her hand was hidden.

A knock came at the door, the sound incongruent in the otherwise dead silence.  A moment later, a vaguely familiar, lanky figure stepped in, box in hand.  His name escaped her at that moment, but he sold nice cream somewhere… the Waterfall border maybe?  

Undyne huffed at him, her exhaustion apparent.  “Can I help you?” she asked, managing to not shout at him.  

He smiled, his cheeks puffed out.  “I just thought, that since you two have been working so hard trying to help everyone, you’re probably hungry.  I’ve bought a nicecream for you each.”  He shook the box and a pair of wrapped treats slid out, and he handed one to each.  

Alphys shook her head as she unwrapped it.  “I d-didn’t think anyone was left in the b-building, y-you surprised me.”

Undyne nodded as she mirrored her girlfriend’s motions.  “I saw you earlier I think?  Down in the triage ward?”

He nodded.  “I was checking in on Burgerpants.  He’s… he’s gone now though.”

Undyne’s ear-fins drooped.  “Sorry for your loss.  We’re-”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand.  “I know, Captain.  You’re doing all you can.  That’s all we can ask.”  He tossed the box into the garbage can by the door.  “I’m going to go see if I can find Jerry, I haven’t seen him around.”

Undyne gave him a smile, a tired, dry smile.  “Thank you for these,” she gestured toward the treat Alphys had hanging out of her mouth, before she took a nibble of her own.  “We could use the energy boost.”  

He nodded a final time as he stepped out, the door pulling shut behind him.

* * *

 

He went back, an hour later.  

The barracks was otherwise silent.  There was no one left alive, after all.  Just piles of dust.  

Dust.  Beautiful,  _ beautiful _ dust.  

Just like Undyne’s command post, her office.  There was nothing left there save her line of mason jars… and two small, overlapping piles of dust.  

The Nice Cream Guy, one of the few monsters in the Underground who had no name of his own beyond that of his  _ job description _ , sank to his knees in front of the piles, scooping them up in his furred paws.  The handfuls mixed, blended, trickling to the floor, and he couldn’t help himself.  

He laughed at the idea that the two women would be together in death.  In him.

He clawed through the piles, cupping his hands.  He bought them to his muzzle, and he lapped at the dust, revealing in the dryness it brought to his mouth.

Stars, he wasn’t sure of them it was, but this was some of the sweetest dust he’d had the pleasure of taking into himself, like nectar from some Surface plant.

He caught himself before the piles were gone though.  He needed the dust, the beautiful,  _ beautiful _ dust, after all.  Onionsan had told him, after all.  

Onionsan loved him,  _ appreciated _ him.  

The dust had to be collected and put in the water supply.  Then there’d be no one.   _ NO ONE _ .  

There would be blessed silence, just Onionsan and himself.

He couldn’t resist.  He couldn’t condemn Undyne and Alphys and their  _ beautiful _ dust to the water system, even though it would in the end just give him, give  _ them _ more dust.  

He poured what was left of the dust into a single pile, brushing his paws across the floor to gather the pile together.  Then he dug both hands in and took handfuls, heaping handfuls, and proceeded to rub it into his fur.  

It felt  _ so good _ , so  _ right _ .  He could feel his sins crawling off his back and being absorbed into the dust, forever  _ absorbed _ ,  _ absolving _ him.  

He jerked back to himself.  Onionsan!  Onionsan was waiting for him, it was time to go.  

He scrambled up, patting down his clothing.  Puffs of dust drifted through the air, only to settle back to the floor as he strode past.  The line of jars, of Papyrus, of the Canine Unit, of Gerson, of Grillby, all got tucked neatly into his satchel.  

There was enough tainted dust to clean out the whole rest of the Underground.  

That was well enough for him.  It meant that he and Onionsan could live happily, in peace.

He stopped, before stepping out of the deserted room.  A single wooden popsicle stick sat on the ground, otherwise forgotten.  

Well, that wouldn’t do.  

He picked it up, pinching the wood between his claws, and dropped it delicately into the garbage.  

Much better.

**Author's Note:**

> ... well? 
> 
> Thoughts, opinions?


End file.
